


Unwelcome Guest

by experimentalwritings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Fantasizing, Nipple Clamps, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentalwritings/pseuds/experimentalwritings
Summary: After a gruelling cheerleading practice Cheryl’s the last person Betty wants to see.If Betty’s going to be on her squad, Cheryl thinks they need to get a few things straight.Later, Betty wonders if Veronica and Cheryl might not get along better if they were naked.All smut, no logic.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge, Cheryl Blossom/Betty Cooper, Cheryl Blossom/Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 9
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Fair warning: I have only watched bits and pieces of Riverdale. I came across the Ladies of Riverdale smut prompts and I’ve been meaning to try my hand at more adventurous smut and some different fandoms as a challenge (hence the brand spanking new pen name) so I attempted one. Kind of failed but hopefully that’s forgivable!

Betty expects the house to be empty - it usually is these days. She’s exhausted after her first official Vixen’s practice. Cheryl had worn her displeasure with Betty’s new spot on the team plainly, had been hypercritical and snide. Betty’s toe touches were sloppy, her jumps pathetic.

Betty had gritted her teeth and worked harder, had shot Veronica warning glares when she could sense she was about to spring to Betty’s defence.

She wouldn’t give Cheryl the satisfaction.

It’s an unwelcome surprise to find Cheryl in her living room, her uniform pristine and lipstick flawless. She’s got her arms crossed and her foot tapping and she gives Betty an unimpressed once over, “Took you long enough.”

Betty drops her bag, pastes on a pleasant smile, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Cheryl walks a few steps forward, her fingertips tugging sharply at one of the limp blonde curls that’s escaped Betty’s ponytail. “Clearly,” she drawls. “And I don’t have time for you to attempt to make yourself presentable. Strip.”

Betty thinks she must be hearing things. “Um. What?”

“Strip,” Cheryl repeats, drawing the word out. “As in, remove that hideous sweater, your skirt, and the undoubtedly sensible panties you’re wearing.”

Betty can’t bring herself to move, can’t quite form any of the myriad of questions she has. 

Cheryl sighs, sharp and inpatient. She shifts to the side, gestures behind her. For the first time Betty spots the piles of fabric on the coffee table, all in the familiar bulldog blue and gold. “I don’t have time to order you a uniform so we’re going to have to cobble something together from what I managed to scrounge up. But I will not have you looking like you’re wearing hand me downs. You’re lucky I know how to sew.”

That’s a surprise. Betty glances at Cheryl’s hands, her shiny blood red nails and pale perfect skin. “What, did buying a whole new outfit every time you tore a seam get too expensive?”

Cheryl doesn’t seem riled, tossing her hair back after she bends to pick up a turtleneck. “My mother taught me.” She tosses the fabric into Betty’s face. “Start with this. It should be the easiest.”

It’s a struggle to keep her expression placid with Cheryl glaring at her expectantly. “You could at least turn around,” Betty grumbles, reaching for the hem of her sweater.

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Betty thinks about sniping back but decides it’s not worth the effort, that it’ll only prolong this encounter. The quicker she does what Cheryl wants the the quicker she’ll be relaxing in a piping hot bubble bath.

A short one, of course. She’s got homework, along with about a million other things on her to do list.

She’ll have to get up early tomorrow, squeeze in some cheer practice in the backyard. 

Betty moves quickly, efficiently. The white turtleneck is snug, clinging to her torso, showing the lacy outline of her pink bra. It’s only an under layer, Betty figures that won’t matter. She glances at Cheryl, brows raised. Cheryl nods her approval, “It’ll do.” She tosses something else at Betty, something small and this time Betty’s quick enough to catch it.

When she opens her hand she’s holding a tiny pair of royal blue spankies. When she glances at Cheryl the other girl is smiling in a way that sends an alarm bell or two trilling.

Satisfied. Anticipatory. A little mean.

“The most crucial part of the uniform, Betty dear. Can’t have you flashing the goods to the whole school, various faculty, families and assorted guests, can we?” 

Maybe she has a point. A small one. Cheryl’s also staring at Betty in a way that’s distinctly challenging, her head tipped to the side and her full lips tilted into a smirk.

Betty lifts her chin stubbornly, her eyes holding Cheryl’s as she reaches for the zip at her waistband. The slide of it is loud, but neither girl gives an inch as Betty feels her skirt fall and pool at her feet. 

When Cheryl glances down Betty’s cheeks warm and she fights the urge to fidget or cover herself. Her panties match the bra, sheer scraps of pink lace that she’d bought as a pick me up. “Cute,” Cheryl murmurs. “A little surprising. Let me guess, you went to the mall and bought those in hopes of tempting the boy next door?”

Betty’s eyes narrow but she refuses to acknowledge the hint of truth in Cheryl’s biting words. “Can’t a girl just want to feel pretty?”

Cheryl’s hum is amused, knowing, but she doesn’t press. Betty bends, stretching out the thick Lycra so she can step into the spankies, wriggles to get them up her thighs. “I think these might be a little small,” she mutters but before she can think about that too much, before her mind can wander down paths she tries not to let it, Cheryl’s voice snaps out a denial.

“They’re supposed to be tight,” she says, tone telling Betty she’s an idiot to think otherwise. She’s moved, crowds Betty a few steps back, her hands landing on Betty’s shoulders.

“What...”

Cheryl’s stronger than she looks and Betty’s too shocked to fight back, finds herself spun. A hand on her back shoves her forward and she has to brace her hands on the coffee table to keep from falling. Cheryl’s hand grazes her ass and Betty’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat, “What are you doing?”

“Checking the fit. Duh. You realize you’re going to have to do the splits in these, right?”  
  
Cheryl’s foot knocks Betty’s farther apart and she has to rest more of her weight on her hands. She cranes her neck to glare, sucks in a gasp when Cheryl’s nails rake the back of her thighs. “You do have great legs,” Cheryl murmurs.

Betty’s shocked enough by the compliment that she doesn’t spit out the demand that Cheryl back off that had been on the tip of her tongue. She manages to swallow back the instinctive thank you. Struggling with conflicting urges, and confused, still tingling from Cheryl’s rough treatment, it takes a second for Betty to register that Cheryl’s touching her again. Gently this time, tracing shiver inducing patterns across Betty’s sensitized skin.

She grazes Betty’s inner thighs, the muscles quiver in reaction. “Such soft, pretty skin,” Cheryl croons.

“I..” she’d been about to say something inane about body wash but Cheryl’s nails scrape against the seam that’s snug against Betty’s pussy and her stomach tightens in reaction, her mouth going dry.

“My squad, my rules, Betty. Do you understand?”

The change of subject is welcome so Betty nods. Cheryl’s shakes her head, lips pouting briefly. “You don’t. But you will.”

She then presses her hand between Betty’s legs, rubbing rough circles. Betty squirms, in surprise and indignation, but Cheryl doesn’t let herself be bucked off, and then Betty gasps when Cheryl grazes her clit just right, her knees going a little wobbly.

“Veronica thinks she can do whatever she wants. That there will never be any consequences for her. And she merrily drags you along with her.”

It’s a struggle to focus on Cheryl’s words, not when her fingers are tensing and relaxing, the pressure against Betty’s clit alternating between too much and not enough, a curious heat building. It’s hard not to move but Betty refuses.

Cheryl will take it as a weakness and Betty Cooper is not weak.

“There are always consequences. You know that, don’t you?”

She stares determinedly down at the coffee table, knows her ears are bright red but she refuses to acknowledge Cheryl’s mocking laugh. “I think someone likes the sound of that. Are you getting wet for me? How flattering.”

“It’s just a biological response to stimulation.”

Cheryl makes a noise of disapproval, steps back.

Betty presses her lips together, silencing a whimper that surely would have sounded like a protest. “So you don’t want me to touch you? To peel off what your wearing and spread you out on your coffee table? Are you sure? I have so many ideas, Betty.”

Later, Betty will realize that she’d had the chance to walk away.

She won’t regret that she didn’t.

Cheryl’s voice is low and taunting, rich with faux disappointment. “I thought about sucking your pretty little nipples. About biting bruises into your skin, so you’d remember me and all the things I did to you every time you get undressed. I brought a couple of my favorite toys. I was going to share, I wanted to see if you’d like them too.” 

Cheryl slips around Betty, lifting a pile of cheer skirts, revealing a few brightly colored pieces of plastic and silicone, things Betty’s furtively browsed online but hadn’t even considered buying given her mother’s startling lack of boundaries. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to play with me, Betty?”

She circles behind Betty again and Betty yelps when Cheryl’s hand comes down sharply against her ass, the bloom of pain melting away into a warmth she finds she wants more of. Her hips tip up and Cheryl laughs again, this time delightedly. She spanks Betty again, and again, until Betty has to close her thighs, squeezing them together rhythmically in hopes of reliving the ache that’s built up.

“I figured you’d like it a little rough. A good girl like you? Such a cliche.” 

Cheryl’s hand grips Betty’s ponytail, she yanks until Betty’s forced to look up. There’s a mirror across the room and they’re framed in it perfectly. Betty’s nipples are tight, obvious against the thin white sweater. Her lips are wet and parted, her face flushed.

Cheryl looks cool and pristine, except for her eyes, fever bright and excited.

She leans in, presses a deceptively gentle kiss to Betty’s neck, leaving a smear of red lipstick behind. “Lucky for you, I kind of like cliches.” She grins wickedly, then scrapes over the same spot with her teeth, her free hand coming around to Betty’s front, sinking past the waistband of her spankies then lower, two fingers pushing easily inside Betty’s slick pussy. Betty whines and grinds helplessly against Cheryl’s palm.

It’s wrong. She knows it’s wrong. That it’s stupid and reckless and probably going to blow up in her face.

But her mind is quieter than it’s been in months, all thoughts of what she should be doing gone.

It’s lovely. It’s freeing.

Betty wants more.

Cheryl pulls on Betty’s hair until her spine unfolds, until she’s standing upright, Cheryl hot against her back. Cheryl’s a little taller, in her heels. Her perfect white teeth close around Betty’s ear. “Do you want to follow my rules, be a good girl for me? I promise you’ll have fun.”

Betty’s nodding, the demands of her body, clenching tightly against the fingers Cheryl’s lazily pumping into her, too persistent to ignore. 

“Excellent,” Cheryl praises. She draws her fingers away, stops to toy with Betty’s clit for a few blissful seconds before she’s pulling away. She wipes them on Betty’s thigh, leaving a wet streak. Cheryl leans around Betty, snatching up a bright red dildo. She places it in Betty’s hand and Betty’s fingers flex curiously, finding it heavier than she’d imagined. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go upstairs and you’re going to take off all of your clothes. I want you to lie on your bed and spread your legs as wide as you can. You’re going to fuck yourself with this. You will not come.”

Betty hesitates, considering the girth of the toy in her hand. It’s... intimidating. 

Cheryl’s eyes narrow, “I thought the first rule would be obvious. You have to do as you’re told.”

Well, Betty has always liked rules.

She takes a shaky breath and heads for the stairs.

* * *

Betty’s got her eyes screwed shut, the toy halfway inside, riding a confusing mix of pleasure and pain, when Cheryl joins her. She’s not sure if the stretch is good or too much, is rubbing her clit frantically to balance out the discomfort. She feels the bed dip, cracks her eyes open in time to see Cheryl grip the back of Betty’s knees, pushing her legs up higher.

Cheryl’s lost her clothing too, wears only a tiny pair of panties, fire engine red to match her lipstick. Her skin is delicate and pale, her breasts sway as she leans over Betty, nipples pulled tight.

Betty groans when the toy sinks in to the hilt, hips arching up.

“Stop,” Cheryl demands, firm in a way that has Betty instantly obeying. She stills, relaxing slowly until she’s flat against the bed. Cheryl looks pleased. “Such potential,” she says. “If only you had better taste in friends.”

The urge to defend Veronica is automatic but Cheryl’s head dips, her tongue peeking out to flicker over Betty’s clit. Betty’s hands fall away, gripping the sheets at her side. Cheryl hums her approval, her tongue working in spirals that are so much better than anything Betty’s ever managed with her fingers. Cheryl twists the dildo, angling it up and drawing it out. She pushes it back in with more force than Betty had dared use and it rubs against a spot that makes Betty’s thighs tremble and her mouth fall open in a gasp. 

“Oohhhh,” she moans, when Cheryl does it again. “That’s...”

“The mythical g-spot,” Cheryl says, glancing up to throw Betty a smirk. “You need to spend less time with fumbling boys, I think.”

Betty barely hears her, lost in the sensations. She writhes against the bed, her cotton sheets sticking to her sweaty skin, rocking into Cheryl’s thrusts. She starts to pant when Cheryl sucks her clit, her body tensing tighter and tighter with each harsh pull. 

Then Cheryl pushes away and Betty groans at the loss, reaching out, her hands only stilled by Cheryl’s pointed glare. “You were going to come,” Cheryl says, and Betty can’t deny it. “Didn’t I tell you not too?” She feels the dildo start to slip out, instinctively tries to close her legs but Cheryl shakes her head. Betty’s eyes flutter close because she can hear it, how slick she is, when the toy pops out and falls to the bed. 

She tries to even out her breathing, counts her inhales and exhales, fights to get her body under control. “Eyes open,” Cheryl demands. She stands and Betty watches as she slowly peels her underwear away and walks to the head of the bed. “I come first. Always. That’s another rule.”

Betty kind of wants to roll her eyes because isn’t that so Cheryl? Then Cheryl bends down, rummages through a bag Betty hadn’t noticed she’d brought. Her hands are closed fists, hiding whatever new tricks she’s planning on springing on Betty.

Betty should be nervous but the flutter low in her belly is definitely anticipation.

“I do hope you were paying attention,” Cheryl says, climbing on to the bed. She’s on her knees, facing the foot and she swings a leg over Betty’s head without any further discussion. Cheryl’s got a neat patch of curls, just as red as the hair on her head, but she’s otherwise smooth. Betty can’t help but brush a finger over the skin, curious despite her trepidation. Cheryl’s folds part under the gentle exploration, and she’s hot and slick.

Betty feels a tiny burst of pride. Cheryl might be calling the shots but she’s not at all unaffected. She wants too.

Cheryl makes an inpatient noise and then her hand is there, two fingers spreading herself open. “It’s not rocket science. Aren’t you a straight A student? Lick.”

Betty tilts her chin up, her tongue sliding out. She’s tentative at first but Cheryl’s direct, tells her more, faster, harder. Cheryl groans when Betty finds her clit, her hips rocking, riding Betty’s tongue shamelessly. Cheryl falls forward, her hair splaying across Betty’s bare stomach when Betty presses her fingers inside, curing them experimentally. Her nails dig into Betty’s hips occasionally and Betty uses that to measure when something’s working, does it again, varies her speed and pressure, adds another finger, then a third, until the bite of pain is a constant.

Cheryl’s quiet when she comes, the whimpers caught deep in her throat. She goes heavy and lax on top of Betty for a second and Betty strains, head digging back into the pillow so she can breathe.

Cheryl laughs again, this time breathless, a little giddy. She rolls off of Betty, until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hair is tousled and there’s something affectionate in the smile she tosses over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to kill you. I’m not done with you yet.”

* * *

“Ugh, please!”

“Oh, but you love this, Betty, don’t you?” Cheryl’s lipstick is gone, smudged on her mouth, on Betty’s thighs and breasts and stomach. Her red hair is a wild tangle about her shoulders. Betty’s focused on Cheryl’s hips though, on the black straps that hold the red dildo in place. The dildo that’s dripping with Betty’s wetness.

She’d tied Betty to the bed when she’d arrived. Cheryl had perched over Betty’s chest and rubbed a tiny bullet vibrator over her own clit, until it peeked out from her folds, cherry red and begging for Betty’s mouth.

Once Cheryl comes, Betty comes. That’s usually the deal.

Except today, Cheryl’s being a little mean.

Betty loves it.

Cheryl had gotten herself off with the vibrator. Had then used it to tease Betty’s nipples into points, had circled Betty’s clit with it until she’d been dripping on the sheets. Had then kissed Betty’s thighs teasingly, while she’d bitten her lips to keep from voicing her frustrations. 

Cheryl had then set the bullet vibrator aside, had gotten both ends of the dildo coated in her own slickness, had leisurely tightened the straps of her favorite harness around her hips and thighs.

She’d fucked Betty shallowly for ages, with barely more than the tip. Betty had tried not to beg.

Key word being tried.

Like she always does when they play Betty had quickly gotten to the point where, blank and mindless with the need to come, she said whatever she thought Cheryl wanted to hear. 

Cheryl tugs on the chain that connects clamps she’d placed on a Betty nipples when she doesn’t get an answer. The noise Betty makes is more animal than human, her back arching up sharply into the delicious pain. Cheryl lets up quickly, her hands cupping Betty’s breasts, thumbs swiping over her the aching tips of her nipples. “You can tell me if it’s too much,” Cheryl taunts. “Just one little word.” 

“We’re gonna use the traffic light system,” Cheryl had declared, weeks ago when they’d started whatever this was. “It’s idiot proof,” she’d said. She’d been playing with Betty’s clit at the time so Betty hadn’t been able to muster any offence.

Betty’s yet to use red. There’d been one yellow, when Cheryl has pulled a plug from her bag. It had been glass, a ruby red jewel on the base. Cheryl had used her mouth to pull orgasm after orgasm from Betty, slowly and gently, until she’d been languid and relaxed and had taken Cheryl’s lubed finger easily.

Cheryl had been right. Betty likes the plug, how it shifts inside, their little secret. Sometimes she wears it to school when she knows she’s in for a stressful day.

Cheryl’s still waiting and Betty blinks that haze away, licks her lips. “Green,” she says, clearly, though her throat’s a little scratchy. 

Cheryl rewards her with a rough thrust, grinding their hips together, her eyes fluttering shut because the double sided dildo is obviously working for her too.

Betty’s arms strain against their ties when Cheryl’s hand slips between them, stroking her own clit, her movements growing choppy. Betty’s toes curl into the bed as she tries to get some stimulation for herself. Cheryl’s angled herself carefully and Betty has nothing to rub against. 

“Please,” Betty tries again, her voice high and thready. “I need to come Cheryl. Please make me come. I need it. I need you.”

Cheryl grins, triumphant, sets her thumb to Betty’s clit, leans down to brush her lips over Betty’s. “So pretty when you’re following my rules.”

Betty’s body shakes with the force of her climax, her mind splintering until the world feels soft and fizzy and indistinct. 

Cheryl’s weight grounds her, comforts her, and when she comes back Cheryl’s wrapped around her, Betty’s favorite blanket over them both. Betty stretches, sighing contentedly. 

She should probably check her phone. See if anyone needs anything from her.

Maybe later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Betty has a thought and decides to act on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been rolling ideas around for continuations and this one seemed to happen first. It was suggested Betty be more dominant so that’s partially where this came from. I appreciate anyone taking the time to read and reviews/more suggestions are very welcome!

It’s an idle thought at first.

Betty and Cheryl had been sharing a booth at Pops, ostensibly to work on the history paper they’d been paired up for.

Except the paper’s already finished. Cheryl’s GPA isn’t stellar because she leaves things to the last minute, or so she’d sniffed when she’d first handed Betty the strict schedule she’d made up for the project.

They’d gotten a little behind, easily distracted when alone. Betty’s ass is still a little sore from the paddle Cheryl had used last night when they’d taken a break from editing.

She has no regrets.

Cheryl had been pressed along Betty’s side, a red tipped finger pointing to a passage in one of the books they’d brought.

Three fingers in her other hand had been buried knuckle deep in Betty’s pussy, thrusting in and out lazily. If asked Betty wouldn’t have had a clue what book they were even using. She’d been so close to coming, her own hands clenched tight around the edge of her seat as she’d struggled her hardest not to move when all she’d wanted to do was spread her legs wider and fuck herself on Cheryl’s hand. 

“Can your greedy pussy take another,” Cheryl had been whispering. “Maybe my whole hand, hmm? You do seem to like that nice thick toy stuffed up there.”

Betty hadn’t noticed Veronica approach, had startled when a chocolate shake had been set down in front of her, so hard the drink had sloshed out to drip down the glass. 

“You two joined at the hip now?” Veronica asks snidely.

Cheryl’s fingers withdraw and Betty swallows a whine of protest. “Aw,” Chery coos mockingly, helping herself to the shake. “Does someone feel neglected? Can’t Daddy buy you a new friend or two?”

Veronica bristles at that, places her hands on her hips. Tosses her hair. Her exact reply is lost to Betty when Cheryl pinches her clit, tugging harshly, and every muscle in her body tenses as the confusing mix of pleasure-pain has her synapses going haywire. 

She recognizes Veronica’s tone, though. Sweet, to an untrained ear. Betty hears the simmering anger, the slight edge of hurt. She feels a little guilty - she has been spending way less time with Veronica lately. Between school and the paper and the thing she and Cheryl have, her friendships have been put on the back burner.

Cheryl snipes back, haughty and goading. Veronica takes the bait. They continue to argue, back and forth and, as Cheryl begins to rub tight circles around Betty’s clit, a stray image worms it’s way into her fevered mind.

Of Cheryl, tied to her giant bed at Thistledown, thrashing angrily while Veronica sucks on her clit.

Betty’s pussy clenches down, her need ratcheting up. 

Ordinarily Cheryl would notice Betty’s reaction, exploit it. But she’s a little preoccupied.

Betty can’t shake the idea, her brain conjuring more explicit pictures. She adds herself to the first fantasy, imagines licking Cheryl’s taste from Veronica’s mouth, then pushing Veronica back, her dark hair spreading out over Cheryl’s smooth pale skin while Betty sucks on her nipples and learns how to get Veronica off with her fingers.

Of hooking Veronica’s thighs over Cheryl’s until they’re both on display. Of licking them both, fucking them both, switching off whenever one gets too close to coming.

Cheryl would be displeased, of course. At least at first. They’d have to coax her out of her temper before they untied her. She and Veronica could take turns eating Cheryl out, until she came so many times she forgot to be angry.

Betty’s sure they could do it. She and Veronica are a great team.

* * *

Veronica’s practically bouncing when Betty follows her into her bedroom at the Pembrooke. “I’m so glad you decided to come, B. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper sleepover.”

Betty sets her bag down on Veronica’s nightstand. Carefully. After school they’d swung by Betty’s so she could pack up her stuff, leave a note saying she’d be gone for the weekend. Betty had packed a few... extras.

Over the last week Betty’s decided to go after what she wants. She’s got a very detailed plan. First, she needs to confess.

She perches on the edge of the bed, clasps her hands in her lap. “Can I tell you something, V?”

Veronica’s slipped out of her shoes, is in the process of unbuttoning her coat. She smiles warmly, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“And you won’t get mad at me?” Betty knows Veronica probably will, not matter what she says now. It’s all part of the plan.

Veronica shakes her head, more amused than apprehensive. “Did you stain that dress you borrowed or something? Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”

Sometimes, Betty’s good girl rep is both a blessing and a curse. 

She takes a deep breath, “So, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Cheryl lately.”

Veronica makes a low, derisive noise. “I know, I’m sure that’s been torture.”

Betty has to bite the inside of her lip to keep a nervous giggle in. Veronica’s not wrong. It’s just been the best kind of torture. 

“But your paper’s done, right? And she can’t make you attend remedial cheer sessions forever.”

Betty’s certainly more flexible thanks to those sessions. If her cheering has improved, that’s just a bonus. 

“Well, it’s been more time than I’ve told you about. When I told you my mom needed my help last weekend I lied. I haven’t been tutoring after school. And a couple weeks ago, when I said I really needed to go to the library to research an article? All those times I was with Cheryl.”

Veronica’s stiff now, her arms crossed tight against her stomach. “What have you two been doing?” She sounds hurt. Jealous. Betty feels equal parts guilty and excited. The next part of her plans hinges on Veronica wanting her. Betty thinks she might - she remembers what it had been like to kiss Veronica, how her lips had been soft and little moans had rumbled from her chest as she’d pressed closer. 

The dazed heat in Veronica’s dark eyes when they’d pulled away.

How whenever they’d slept in the same bed they’d woken up wrapped together, thighs tangled and clothes askew and Veronica had always burrowed closer upon waking instead of backing off.

“We‘ve been...” Betty falters, like she’s nervous. And she is. A bit. If she tells Veronica what she and Cheryl have been getting up to there’s a chance she won’t believe it. Veronica’s stubborn and Betty really doesn‘t want to waste the time trying to convince her.

So she’d planned ahead.

“Can I show you?” Betty asks.

Veronica’s brows rise. “I guess,” she responds, grudging. 

Betty pulls her phone out of her jacket’s pocket, pats the bed next to her. “Come, sit. I have a video.”

Many videos. 

She’d selected one strategically. Cheryl’s barely visible, just her red hair flowing over the pillows under her head, and her hands, her nails digging into Betty’s hips. In the video Betty’s on her knees at the foot of Cheryl’s four poster bed, her arms bound tight and spread wide. Jewelled cherries dangle from the clamps on Betty’s nipples as she writhes desperately against Cheryl’s face.

Cheryl had propped herself up comfortably, had leisurely licked and sucked as Betty’s folds for ages, ignoring her clit and only barely sneaking the tip of her tongue into the tightly clenching entrance to her body. Occasionally she’d reached up and flicked at the clamps, and Betty had moaned brokenly each time, shivers wracking her frame at the extra burst of sensation.

Betty’s cut the video down to near the end - after nearly an hour of being teased she’d been flushed and sweat damp, begging to come. She presses play before she hands the phone over, watches Veronica’s eyes go wide and shocked.

Veronica doesn’t look away. Doesn’t stop the video. Both are promising.

She sinks down fully next to Betty, her arm shakes a little as she brings the phone closer to her face. Betty hears her own voice, rough sounding even through the tiny phone speakers, “Can I please come now? I need to so bad.”

“Poor thing,” Cheryl purrs and Betty cries out sharply. Cheryl had finally sucked her clit, tightening the ache Betty had felt. She’d dangled on the edge while Cheryl’s tongue had toyed with her. “I don’t think you’re quite ready,” Cheryl had said sweetly, once she’d pulled back. 

Veronica’s breathing has quickened and Betty presses closer, resting her palm on Veronica’s thigh. It shudders out Veronica doesn’t pull away and Betty slowly inches her way up, drawing idle patterns over the skin she finds, softer and warmer the higher she goes.

Betty can’t wait to taste.

Veronica makes room, her legs drifting apart. She shifts her weight, leaning forward and Betty knows she must be turned on, wet, that she’s a few seconds away from beginning to rub herself against the mattress in search of friction.

In the video, her own cries get louder, as Cheryl’s voice demands Betty ask nicely in she wants to come. 

Confession complete, Betty decides it’s time to move her plan along. She pulls the phone from Veronica’s hands, sets it aside and comes to stand between Veronica’s spread thighs. Veronica’s lips are parted, her pupils blown wide. She opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes out. Betty presses her advantage, leaning forward and kissing Veronica deeply.

Veronica moans, her mouth parting eagerly at the first press of Betty’s tongue. The kiss grows hot, aggressive and Betty sinks a hand into Veronica’s thick hair, holding her still, taking control. Veronica whimpers prettily, her knees pressing into Betty’s hips, her hands urging Betty closer. 

Betty smiles, tugs on Veronica’s hair until her head falls back. As much as she likes when Cheryl takes control, when she’s reduced to sensation and need and her mind is quiet while her body screams, lately she’s been wondering about turning the tables. Betty kisses Veronica’s throat, rests her tongue over her rapidly fluttering pulse.

She’s done some research, but last week at Pops, the fantasy of Cheryl and Veronica at her mercy, had nudged Betty into action. She’d purchased a few things that she’ll be springing on Cheryl. Tomorrow, ideally, if everything tonight goes well.

And Betty’s rather confident it will.

Betty traces the pearls Veronica wears, before her hand drifts down and cups Veronica’s breast. She’s wearing a padded bra under her thin uniform t-shirt but Betty easily finds the jut of her nipple. “Pictures might be worth a thousand words but I think practical demonstrations are important. Don’t you agree?”

Veronica takes a shuddering breath, “I completely agree.”

Betty brushes a playful kiss across Veronica’s lips. “Excellent!” She chirps. She takes a step back, far enough away that they’re no longer touching. “Take off your shirt.”

Veronica pouts, “I’d rather take off yours.”

“If you don’t want to do this...” Betty says, taking another step back. It’s a risk but if Veronica’s making assumptions about how this will go based on the video, Betty needs to nip those in the bud.

Betty’s open to Veronica calling the shots sometime. It’s just not what Betty’s in the mood for now.

Veronica obeys hastily, stripping the shirt away and letting it drop. “And your shorts.”

The Pops uniform does great things for Veronica’s body but Betty needs them out of the way. Veronica of course wears a matching bra and panty set, probably some brand you can’t even get in Riverdale. Her breasts are spilling out of turquoise lace cups by the time the shorts are shimmied down, a little white bow nestled between.

“Thank you.” Betty draws closer once more, reaching out to skim a hand over Veronica’s side. “You’ve been with girls, right? In New York?”

Veronica’s never explicitly said so but Betty’s read between the lines, into the stories of wild nights partying and hazy mornings in bed. Veronica nods. “And you liked it?” Betty asks, just to be sure.

Veronica’s yes is a little too loud, eager and a faint flush creeps over her chest. Betty, however, firmly believes in rewarding honesty.

“Good.”

She turns away, walks briskly to Veronica’s vanity. Betty grabs the stool there, snags her backpack on her return. Veronica’s eyes are glued to her every move, glazed and anticipatory. Veronica’s bed is high and ornate and when Betty pushes her down her feet don’t touch the floor. Veronica arches up when Betty yanks the cups of her bra down, she hums in pleasure as Betty sucks her nipple harshly. She makes to grip Betty’s ponytail but Betty shakes her off. “Nuh-uh,” Betty murmurs, mouth sliding over. She catches Veronica’s wrists, squeezing in warning. This time she uses her teeth, scraping gently at first. Veronica’s stomach muscles tighten so Betty nibbles harder, then licks, repeating until Veronica’s nipple is a firm point against her tongue. 

Veronica sinks into the bed, her hips moving restlessly against Betty’s stomach. A quick glance down shows a growing damp spot on Veronica’s lace panties. Betty straightens, reaches back with her foot and hooks it around one of the stool’s legs. She draws it forward until it’s resting at the back of her knees. “Turn over,” she instructs Veronica, bending to pick up the bag.   
  
Veronica takes a minute, likely weighing her options, trying to decide if obeying is in her best interests. When Betty pulls out a dildo -12 inches, with realistic veining and a head at each end - and raises a brow in challenge, she must decide it is. Veronica rolls swiftly, her legs splayed wide when she settles. She stretches for a pillow, propping her chest up, glancing back at Betty. “How did it start? You and Cheryl.”

Betty smiles, settles herself on the stool. She inches her skirt up and slips her hand into her panties, coating her fingertips in the wetness she finds gathered there. She teases herself for a moment - if Cheryl’s taught her anything it’s how much harder she comes if she lets it build - before she wipes her wet fingers on the back of Veronica’s thigh. She grips the firm skin she finds there, leans down and licks the lace over Veronica’s entrance. Veronica rocks back eagerly and Betty hooks a finger in her panties, pulling the fabric aside and taking a broad lick.

Just a taste.

“Actually, it happened a lot like this.”

If Veronica has more questions they’re lost in a moan. Betty slides two fingers through her folds, getting them nice and slick, before she slips them inside. Veronica’s body clenches down greedily. Betty works her up, fucking her slowly, occasionally using her other hand to play with Veronica’s clit.

“Have you ever been with more than one girl?” Betty asks, curious. 

“A few times,” Veronica gasps.

Good to know. 

Betty presses one tip of the dildo to Veronica’s twitching pussy. Her knees dig into the bed, ass rising as she grinds back. “More,” she pleads when Betty only circles her opening with the toy.

Betty works it into her slowly, inch by inch, watching in fascination as Veronica’s pussy flutters and clings, her own arousal flaring hotter. Betty angles herself so the corner of the stool rests just right between her legs, rides the smooth edge for a little relief. The dildo grows wetter, Veronica dripping onto the duvet, making small, needy noises as Betty fucks her steadily.

Veronica’s thighs begin to shake, her hands grasping blindly for purchase. She gets noisy. “Oh god,” she groans. “Oh, ohh...”

Just as her voice begins to grow hoarse Betty pulls away.

Mean? Maybe a little. 

Veronica shudders, glances back in confusion. “Betty,” she pleads. “You can’t... I need...” she can’t seem to finish a thought and Betty takes pity on her.

This time. Veronica is a little spoiled - they’ll have to work on that. 

Betty strips away Veronica’s panties, then her own. She climbs onto the bed behind Veronica and grips her hips. “Up,” she urges, “on your knees. It’ll be so good, I promise.”

Veronica’s shaky as she gets into position and her head hangs low. Betty presses a kiss to Veronica’s spine just as she begins to fuck her again with the dildo. “Such a good girl,” she says, because she always likes it when Cheryl talks when they’re like this. “Do you always get this wet? Or is it just for me?”

Veronica moans something unintelligible, dropping onto her elbows. “Oh, perfect,” Betty praises. She shifts taller on her knees, shifting her weight to one side so she can get the second tip on the dildo situated correctly. It’s soaked in Veronica’s arousal and she’s plenty wet herself, it slides home easily and Betty sighs with satisfaction, clenching down around the intrusion gratefully.

Then she thrusts. Hard.

Veronica squeals, claws at the bedding and Betty does it again. And again. She keeps her motions shallow so she doesn’t dislodge the thick toy from either of them, rides her end firmly and grips Veronica’s hips to set a rhythm. 

She can just see Veronica’s expression in a mirror across the room, her pretty face twisted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut. 

Fleetingly, Betty wonders why they haven’t been doing this since Veronica came to town.

Betty bites at Veronica’s shoulder to get her attention, gradually increasing her speed. “Do you want to come, V?”

“How bad? Do you need it?”

Veronica’s head bobs, a frantic nod. “Play with your clit,” Betty demands. “You gotta work for it this time.”

With a sob of relief Veronica balances herself on one hand, her other disappearing between her thighs as she rubs frantically. She bucks under Betty as she comes, chanting a steady stream of curses, finally collapsing.

She manages to land on her side, watching with glazed eyes and slack lips as Betty finishes herself with a few more deep thrusts, her clit rubbing against the side of her fist.

Betty falls down, chest heaving as she struggles for breath, ends up face to face with Veronica, the dildo landing heavily on the bed. She finds herself giggling, shivering, adrenaline making her giddy.

Veronica’s life curl into a smile, and she crowds closer, throwing her leg over Betty’s hip, tucking her pussy tight against Betty’s thigh.

Betty takes it that a sign that a second round will follow soon. So far her plan is a smashing success. “So that’s what you’ve been doing with Cheryl?”

Betty hums a confirmation. “Are you mad?”

“Um, yeah.” She’s working her hand under Betty though, searching for the zip on her skirt, so Betty’s pretty sure she’s going to be quickly forgiven. It seems that Veronica, much like Cheryl, is far more pliant post orgasm. “I’m going to need to see the rest of those videos.”

Betty props herself up on an elbow, pushing until she’s splayed out on top of Veronica. She rolls her hips, rubbing their wet cores together and Veronica’s eyes flutter. Betty strips off her sweater. “Or,” she suggests, “you could come to a live show.”

Veronica’s eyes narrow but Betty cuts off her argument, leaning down for another kiss, flicking Veronica’s nipple with a nail until Veronica’s whining into her mouth and humping her thigh.

It takes some convincing but Veronica, several hours and orgasms later, agrees to accompany Betty to Thistledown the next day.

So far, the plan to make her fantasy a reality has gone off without a hitch. Betty’s pretty optimistic her winning streak with continue.

She shows Veronica just how Cheryl likes to be eaten out. Just in case.


End file.
